All the Answers to a Question
by trapt-tage
Summary: Oneshot. A boy asks a question, and over time he gets answers. Perhaps he had been too childish at first, or perhaps it was because he had been child that he found out afterall.


Disclaimer: I don't own DNAngel.

* * *

It was magic. That was the explanation they had given him when he had asked. Nothing but pure and unadulterated magic, and they left it at that. Like a child wondering why the animals on TV could talk, and being given the line of 'it's Movie Magic.' There was no explanation following that said _why_ the magic was there, just the statement that it was. So he believed that it was truly magic, and that the gods in control of luck and chance and pulling rabbits out a hats had waved their wands, and had cast a spell on him. Magic was real, he already knew that, so why would he think otherwise about the matter? It all seemed logical in his eyes.

And then he thought it was destiny, because all the love stories said that Destiny was always the answer to any question. He wasn't quite sure what Destiny was, but whatever it was, it had to be feminine because what boy would be named 'Destiny'? So he thought that maybe Destiny was the one that cast the magic spell with her all-powerful wand. Perhaps it was she that had picked him out of the crowd and whispered her incantation to. For all he knew, Destiny was as real as his hand, and she could be found, too, if only he was able to search all over for her. He wasn't sure if Destiny's spell was reversible or not, but he figured that if her ever found her, he would be sure to ask her.

And then he went to school, because - little boy or not - he was smart enough to do such a thing. He went to school and he did all his work right, and then he was given a project in science class that he completed exceptionally well (as he always did), that slightly changed his way of thinking.

He had a very good memory, so he was still able to retain such memories as the explanation that "It's magic," or the conclusion he had drawn on his own of "It's Destiny." But he also remembered that the magic had been in his family for years; it was a story that had often been told to him as a wee child. He remembered that he had thought about how Destiny had cursed many Hikaris before him. And he also remembered the day in class when he had been assigned that project by his Biology teacher. She was very petite, with limp red hair and your average blue eyes. See, he had a very good memory.

To him, she had said, "…and you will be researching Albinism. Okay?" Her blue eyes had softened a bit when looking at him, and he imagined that it was because of the fact that the age difference between himself and the rest of the class was so great. That, and the fact that he had heard that she herself had had a child just last year. It was easy to tell that she liked him, that much he remembered.

In response to her question, he had simply nodded his head, and had written the assignment down, and she had continued on with addressing the rest of the class. Over the next few days, he did as he had been told, and he researched Albinism. It was a 'disease' apparently. It wasn't _really _ a disease, it couldn't kill people, but that was what they called it. The reason he was studying it wasn't just because it was a disease, though.

He knew why she had given him Albinism. It was a non-fatal disease that really didn't cause very much harm. It wasn't like Progeria or Dystrophy, or any other the other rather depressing conditions, like she had given to other members of the class. This disease was very simple, in that the pigment in one's skin would either be lighter than normal, or maybe even there would be no pigment at all. The hair would be very light. Blonde, maybe even closer to white. The eye color ranged anywhere from blue to red. Really, she had figured that the boy would enjoy learning about Albino humans, and that it wasn't a disease that would upset him, like some of the more harmful diseases would. But in reality, there were even kinder conditions she could have given him, had the only requirement been that they were studying diseases. In reality, the class wasn't just study the topics because they were diseases, but - as the poor boy found out - that they were genetic.

Albinism is genetic.

By this time, he had been living with that new man that had said that his name would be changed. That man, unlike the boy's last family, kept mirrors in his house. Not very many, but there was still a mirror or two on each floor. Every now and then, the boy would get up and go look in a mirror, as he had once seen that other man do. Not the new Hiwatari man, but that Hikari man that he had seen such a long time ago. He didn't quite know who that man had been, but he knew that when that man looked in the mirror, the mirror looked back at him with a different face, as mirrors were not supposed to do.

The day came when the boy could look in the mirror, and be looked back at by a face that was not his. The boy hated his second face, and learned that he also hated mirrors. It was possible for him to de-mirror-ize the chambers and rooms he lived in; covering or dismantling the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, or taking down the mirror that hung in the hall; it was impossible for him to not see his reflection in rain puddles, or in the glass of a window when he looked out at night from within a lighted room. No matter how hard he tried, he knew exactly what that second face looked like, because he got a glimpse of it not matter how hard he tried not to.

The face was as pale as a china doll, with hair as fair as the winter Sun rays. The eyes were lighter than any he had ever seen; the color wasn't natural. The boy had a very good memory, and he remembered that when he was young they had told him about the magic, and then when he got older he had thought that it was the doing of Destiny, and now that he was even older, he could finally put the pieces together. It was neither of those answers, and yet it was both of those answers at the same time.

But over everything else, Albinism was Genetic.

* * *

AN: Satoshi's past is a little unclear to me, so if everything seems fuzzy, that's because it is.


End file.
